Flawless
by detective-sweetheart
Summary: It's obvious that they know what they're doing...that they know how to work together...how to read each other.


A/N: This is what happens when I start looking at a challenge list, though, technically, this doesn't answer any of the challenges. Ah, well. At least it's something. And CI is not mine.

* * *

She'd like to think she knows him better than anyone else, but she knows better than to do so. There is always something about him that surprises her, whether it's something he says, something he does, or something he knows. She's learned not to underestimate him. And he has learned not to underestimate her.

No one thought that their partnership would work out. It annoys her to no end, now that she knows it will, but those who talked were very nearly right. Five years ago, she had wanted a new partner. A few months ago, he'd found out about it. And it had scared the hell out of her. She'd been afraid that he'd stop trusting her, that he would be the one requesting a new partner when it was all over.

But then he'd showed up on her doorstep about two nights after it happened, after she'd tormented herself about it for about thirty-six hours straight. He'd told her they'd be ok, and they were. Things went back to normal after that, much to her relief. She'd hated the thought that that damned letter she'd written would split them up even now, five years later. But it hadn't.

And now she watches him in the interrogation room, perfectly content to follow his lead. She knows that their captain and their ADA are watching on the other side of the one-way mirror, but it doesn't stop her from firing off some snarky comment in reply to what their suspect has just said. Her partner looks at her for a moment, a faint, almost undetectable smile crossing his face for a split second. It's something that no one else will catch but her, and he knows it, and so does she.

They continue on with the interrogation. This suspect has not yet asked for a lawyer, which makes them suspicious, but has them content at the same time. As long as counsel is not asked for, it need not be given, and they know it. She watches as her partner continues on his line of questioning, wondering where he's going with it. The suspect is continuing to grow increasingly agitated, and she finds herself silently praying that nothing will happen.

Nothing does. After a while, her partner really starts getting to the suspect. He continues questioning, and she watches, commenting every now and then. Every time she does, he looks at her, if only to make sure that she's all right with where this is going, but it suits her, so she nods slightly, something that the suspect misses, but her partner catches.

Hardly matters, though, at least, to her. A few minutes later, her partner asks the one question that has their suspect shouting at the top of his lungs, confessing to what he's done before collapsing into tears as the guilt finally gets to him. Her partner exits the interrogation room at this point, and she follows as two uniforms walk in to cuff the suspect.

She's heard the rumors. Hell, everyone's heard the rumors. Five years ago, she was listening to them. But as those years went by, she found herself ignoring them, jumping to her partner's defense more often than not, eyes flashing angrily as she told off whoever it was that had been talking.

Their captain starts talking to them as they stand there; something about a job well done, but she's not listening. She's still thinking, about the rumors, about the way the department regards her partner. And she realizes something. Over the five years that the two of them have been together, people have slowly stopped talking. The Major Case Squad has become even more renowned than they were before, and all because none of their cases have ever been broken, whether by lack of evidence or by a good defense team.

It's obvious that they know what they're doing. Obvious that they know how to work together, how to read each other. Obvious that they have certain routines that they use, obvious that even after all the muck they were dragged through, no one is going to break them apart.

The ironic part about this, she muses, is that they slip up every now and then, but no one seems to notice. They're at each other's throats at times, rarely ever, to be honest, but no one ever says anything. The department calls them flawless, but they have their flaws, and they know it. And the day they start denying it is the day they will start to fall.


End file.
